ON FUZZY

Fuzzy was a funny little boy who was small enough to hide in a shoe box if he wanted to or sometimes if he had had enough of the world he would hide himself in a hollow which he found in the oldest tree in the wood whose branches had fallen off. Here nobody could find him for days. If you wanted to you could call his name out loud at the top of your voice but he would not come out because he would be humming himself happy little tunes  and hoping nobody was looking for him.  When he felt like this he wished that the whole world would stop or break down or fall to pieces because nothing he did ever seemed to please anyone and although he could run as fast as his peanutty little  legs would carry him and sometimes  be blown over the hills by the wind with his thick curly hair pushed forwards like a birds next, he could not escape from the world. So... Fuzzy would  stay in the hollow of the old tree for days and he would be found because he liked it there. If the whole world could have joined him the should have been happy to.

This was in the summer months when the grass was thick and the trees spoke softly to you in the ways that they did if you listened carefully to the rhythms in which they spoke.  Fuzzy was very good at listening because he was not very good at seeing things. When he put his thick pebbly glasses (which were only a pair of old bottle tops,) on, he could see the world much better. When he put them on, the whole world
came into focus and appeared to him as a globe might to an ant if he were to tread on its surface, only in reverse. Fuzzy liked to wear his glasses but if he took them he could hear what only some animals hear, magical things  which you do not ever need to think about, which are there all the time and which are telling you things even though  you may not be listening.